


Incensed and Aroused

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smut, unexpected nakedness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: There is a reason Pansy doesn't like to work with other Departments... and that reason is Percy Weasley.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley
Comments: 52
Kudos: 170
Collections: Hermione's Nook Naked Weasley Fest!





	Incensed and Aroused

Pansy Parkinson was incensed. 

Fury chased through her veins like a stampede of wild hippogriffs, and it took every last ounce of strength not to crumple the document under her fingers and light it on fire with a flick of her wrist. 

Her  _ colleague _ —because he wasn’t her boss anymore no matter what he’d have her think—was intentionally attempting to rile her up. 

No one believed her. Of course not. 

Who would believe that Percy Ignatius Weasley would ever stoop so low as to ruffle Pansy Parkinson’s feathers?

Well, he would and  _ did _ at any given opportunity. 

She’d taken that paltry Ministry position in the Department of Magical Transportation. She’d done her job dutifully and with precision until  _ finally _ she’d been promoted and moved to a junior position at Magical Sports and Games.

Pansy didn’t give two sickles about Sports and Games, but she dressed sharply, and her wit was unmatched. It was easy to reign in those blubbering fools, and she soon climbed her way to a smart little office with PUBLIC RELATIONS etched into the frosted glass. 

Most of her job kept her away from other departments; she worked with the  _ Prophet  _ and  _ Witch Weekly, _ team managers, and a few naughty Quidditch stars like the youngest Weasley girl, who seemed to just  _ love _ making a spectacle of the British Quidditch league.

But it wasn’t until this year’s upcoming World Cup that her path crossed with a far more irritable Weasley. She wasn’t particularly fond of a single one of them, but Percy Weasley was downright vexing.

He’d been her superior for the first few years of her career and was incorrigible on his best day. His tenacity for perfection made her lip curl, and don’t even get her started on his desk. You’d have thought that someone had set the Ministry on fire if a single quill was out of place. 

He never strolled, never stomped. Each step was meticulous and clipped, his jaw steeled and glasses perched just low enough on his nose that he could peer over them to glare at his employees. 

Merlin, the day she’d gotten her promotion had been the happiest day of her life and with Percy’s back turned she offered him a stout middle finger and floated her belongings to the lift and level seven. 

Then, as luck would have it, their paths crossed again about six months ago when discussions for the World Cup and its logistics began. 

Britain was still in the wake of the war, their economy still struggling to recoup, and the stain it left on their reputation was unmistakable. The continent seemed happy to launch the United Kingdom out to sea and forget its existence entirely. 

Which is how Pansy and Mr. Percy Weasley had ended up in adjacent hotel rooms in Italy, trying in vain to perfect a presentation to the international summit on why England was best fit to host the World Cup this year.

Pansy had worked tirelessly on said presentation, meticulously planning each argument and the locations that would best suit such a large gathering. 

_ Percy _ had worked tirelessly to fight her on each and every line. Where she pushed, he pulled. Where she pulled, he shoved it off a cliff. 

The man was created for the sole purpose of driving her batty, and while sitting in her adjoining suite, staring at the latest draft of changes, she swore the imbecile had a death wish. 

Her beautiful parchment was now covered in red ink and slash marks. Slamming her hand down, she crumpled it again in her fingers and rose to stand, her heels clicking on the expensive marble as she crossed the room. 

“Weasley!” she shouted at the door joining their rooms, her fist coming down in hard beats against its surface. “Let me in!” 

“Go away, Miss Parkinson. I’m busy.” 

The edges of her vision darkened, and she growled as she pulled her wand free and unlocked the door, shoving the door open with too much force. 

“I don’t give a fuck.  _ How dare—” _

_ Merlin. _ The words were snatched from her lips and tossed carelessly to the side at the sight of Percy Weasley in his hotel suite, enveloped in steam from a hot shower and beautifully,  _ beautifully _ naked. 

Her gaze followed the thin strips of lean muscle along his torso, catching on a silver scar slashed across his sculpted chest. Deep cuts in his hips lead towards a thatch of trim auburn hair and his cock hanging proudly between his thick thighs. 

He had a towel in his hands, rubbing absently at his wavy red hair, and while she couldn’t tear her eyes from the thickness of him, she could feel his cocky smirk. 

“Did you need something, Parkinson? I told you I was busy.” Her staring match with his member was only broken when he brought his towel down and dried his crotch off. 

She nearly whimpered before she remembered herself and stood to full height, blinking rapidly and keeping her eyes on his. “I… yes. Yes, of course, I needed something. What in the hell is—”

There was little doubt in her mind that he was about to cover himself up, but being the insufferable Percy Weasley meant that he simply slung the towel over his shoulder and leaned arrogantly on the doorjamb, grinning _. Naked  _ and grinning.

She couldn’t think, and despite all of her best intentions, she couldn’t stop her gaze from snapping to his nakedness. He stood there unabashed, completely unashamed—but then, she couldn’t really blame him. The man was  _ fit _ .

“What was it you needed?” Percy said, a smug, self-satisfied stretched over his lips, and something about the sight sobered Pansy entirely. 

“It’s about your suggested changes to this report.” She shook the parchment in the air, and he had the audacity to snicker and cross his hotel room. 

_ Fucking hell _ , the backside of him was more delicious than the front. His arse must have been carved from fucking steel, and every inch of him was covered in golden freckles that almost made him look tan— _ almost _ . 

He reached for his trousers on his bed and tugged them on without trunks, and something in her melted and pooled in her knickers. Was the man always without pants in the office? Pansy shook her head free from the thought.

She was not attracted to Weasley.  _ She was not. _

Once partially closed, he shrugged an oxford over his shoulders and buttoned each one meticulously, tucking the tail in and then rolling up his sleeves to just below his elbow. 

Turning, he held his hands out as if he were on display. “There, maybe now you won’t be so distracted. And those weren’t suggestions; those are changes that need to be made immediately.”

“This presentation was essentially perfect before you got your grubby little hands on it, Weasley. You’re being pedantic.” 

His brows pinched, and he ticked his chin to the side. “ _ Pedantic?  _ I don’t believe such a thing exists.” Percy stalked towards her, still barefoot, ginger fringe tousled and wet. “We’ve been tasked with obtaining the World Cup for England, and I want very much to  _ please _ our superiors. Don’t you?”

Her heart ceased to beat for the span of a single breath and then picked up into a wild gallop as he stopped just short of her. “Of course I do.” 

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, blue eyes boring into her. “Then you should remember from your time under me that I don’t settle for less than absolute perfection. You’ll find that the payoff is much more enjoyable for everyone involved when you take your time and do it right.” 

“It  _ is _ right, Weasley. I did it myself.” The air between them felt decidedly different, charged and static with frenzied magic. 

“Well maybe doing it by yourself isn’t good enough, maybe you ought to let me do it for you.” His hand fell open between them, and she clutched the paper tighter. With a quiet growl, she turned and sashayed from the room, utterly aware of the feeling of his stare on her arse. 

xXx

Pansy begrudgingly made the changes to the draft. They presented the next day and won the bid. 

She wasn’t sure quite how she felt about the victory. There was the elation of a job well done but then there was the smugness practically billowing from Weasley as they made their way to the Portkey that evening. He pulled free a handkerchief and presented her with a small, chipped teacup. 

Just as it began shaking, the edges turning an ethereal blue, their gazes locked. 

“Ready, Parkinson?”

She nodded and brushed a finger against the surface, her stomach flopping for more than one reason as she was tugged swiftly behind the navel. 

They landed on the outskirts of Diagon, and Pansy nearly doubled over, her fingers rising to hover over her lips as she tried to keep her lunch in the confines of her stomach. Merlin, she hated international travel.

“Celebratory drink, Pansy?” 

The nausea quickly subsided, and she shot to full height, staring curiously at him. “You’ve never asked me for a drink before.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never wanted to spend time in your company before.” 

“You’re a git.” 

“Is that a no?” 

Pansy’s lip curled, ready to spit out her refusal, but something stayed her tongue and against her volition the word, “No,” broke free.    
  


“No? As in ‘no, you don’t want to have a drink with me’ or ‘no, it’s not a no’?”

Visions of naked Weasley danced behind her eyelids, and she shook her head, ignoring the churning deep inside her. “It’s not a good idea. We work together.” 

His lips pulled into a charming, crooked smile she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Parkinson. Just congratulations on a job well done.”

Worrying her bottom lip, Pansy tried to find her reason. She ought not go; she was pretty sure she didn’t even like the sod. But it was just  _ one _ measly drink. Surely there was no harm in— 

“Another time, then. See you at work.” 

“Wait—” But he was gone, spinning in on himself in a column of smoky magic and leaving her there in the hazy mist of London. 

xXx

For the next seven months, Pansy was forced to work closely with several Ministry departments as they sorted through the logistics of the 425th Quidditch World Cup. Her work in organising the arrival of the teams, dignitaries, and other prominent figureheads lead her more times than not to the Department of Magical Transportation and the office of one Percy Weasley. 

Over the months she expected the unresolved—and unwanted— sexusal tension to dissipate but the man was intent to make her combust. After seeing him naked, she was just so  _ aware _ of him. All of his movements drove her mad: the way he’d drag the feather of his quill between his fingers or play with the small signet ring on his pinky. Not to mention the way his long fingers neatly folded his wire glasses and placed them  _ just so _ . 

But he never brought up drinks or The Incident again. 

That August, England hosted the grandest Quidditch World Cup in its long history, bolstering the local economies and setting the stage for a new era for the United Kingdom. 

All of her work with the Magical Transportation ended abruptly as did her contact with its director, Percy Weasley. 

Which was fine. 

More than, really. He was an insufferable git and suffocating to work with, so yes, it was fine. 

“Parkinson!” Her Deputy Director shouted from her open door, although her office was hardly big enough to demand much more than a whisper. “We need you in Paris tomorrow with the British National team. They’ve got a press tour, and their team public relations agent can’t attend. Can you fill in? I don’t want them making a mockery of the country again like when they showed up pissed drunk last year.” 

“Of course.” 

“Brilliant! They’re all already there, so head over to the Portkey office and expedite a request. I need you at the Domaine de Mialaret for press and photographs at eight o’clock.” 

He was gone as quickly as he came, and Pansy was quick to follow, rushing from her office and towards the lift, jamming her finger into the level six button as soon as she was aboard. 

The wait between floors felt like it stretched on and on. Tapping the toe of her expensive pump on the cheap, faded carpet of the lift, Pansy counted her breaths until  _ finally _ it lurched to an abrupt stop. 

She rounded the corner and stopped at the front desk. “Hello, is Mister Weasley in?”

A toothy witch with abhorrently bright lipstick smacked her gum and shook her head. “Sorry, he’s at a meeting. How can we help you?”

Pansy blinked. “Well, when will he be back? It’s important.”

“I don’t know.”

Her lip curled, eyes narrowing as she slapped the top of the desk. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Isn’t that your job to know? I held this bloody desk for two years and I  _ always _ knew. Are you incompetent or simply bad at your job?” 

The poor girl gawked, jaw falling open, and Pansy simply arched a perfectly manicured brow as if daring her to argue as the lift dinged behind her.

“Miss Parkinson?” Her heart stuttered and stopped as she felt his presence behind her. 

“Weasley, yes, hello. Just having a discussion with your assistant here; I need to speak to you.” 

He looked from her to the slack jawed receptionist a few times and then, with a furrowed brow, gestured for her to lead the way to his office. The click of the door behind them sent a shiver over her skin, and she stuck her hands on her hips simply for something to do. 

“So, why were you harassing my poor assistant?” Percy asked as he rounded his desk, shrugging from his jacket and hanging it neatly on the coat rack. 

“Because she’s a fool.” 

He arched a brow at her as he took his seat, plucking his quill from its holder. “And you decided that today was the day you march up here and tell her?” 

Sniffing, she straightened her spine.  _ “No _ , obviously not. I need an expedited Portkey for tomorrow morning. I know it’s last minute, but I’m afraid it can’t wait.” 

Percy’s eyes darted to the left and right a few times and he gently placed his quill across his parchment. “Alright, well I think that any of my employees could assist you.” 

“Well, I need it immediately, and your entire staff seems—” 

A slow smirk spread over his lips, and his fingers pressed into the top of his desk as he rose to stand. “Are you sure that’s why you came here today?”

Pansy blinked. “Yes.” 

“Okay.” He turned to a file cabinet and pulled a drawer open, extracting a single piece of parchment. “Well, if you want to fill this out, have it signed by your superior, and return it to Richard or Nancy, they’ll be able to get you your Portkey by the end of the day.” 

With a few long strides, he was back in her space, the scent of his fading cologne causing her knees to buckle as she peered up through her thick lashes at him. 

“Thank you,” she said with a long swallow. “I’ll do that immediately.” She didn’t move though; in fact, she stilled even further as he swayed just fractionally closer to her. 

“Anything else, Miss Parkinson?” 

Her lips parted, gaze travelling from arctic blue eyes to the bow of his lip, and Merlin, this was a bad idea. It was a very,  _ very _ bad idea, in fact, but all she could think of was the flex of his muscle and the thickness of his thighs. 

“Miss Parkinson?” His voice was low and gravelly, his chest now brushing hers. “If there is something else you want, I need you to articulate it.” 

Reason returned, and she shook her head and took a step back. “No, nothing at all. I’ll see Richard or Nancy this afternoon.” She turned sharply on her heel and reached for the doorknob, but just as she pulled it open, his hand shot over her shoulder and pressed it closed again. 

His body covered hers, pressing her into the door as his lips fell over her ear. “What if there’s something I need from you?” 

She keened and attempted a final refusal. “We work together, Weasley.” 

“Not anymore, not really.” 

His fingers curled around her hip bone, and her head fell back against his shoulder, her precarious resolve crumbling into nothingness before her eyes. “It’s a horrible idea. I don’t even think I like you.” 

“Say yes, and I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” 

Pansy keened, melting under the weight of his filthy words. “Yes.” 

A feral growl sounded in her ear just before his lips latched onto her neck, and he rocked his already stiff erection into her arse. He cast a locking and silencing charm and then turned her in his arms, slanting his mouth over hers as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. 

Merlin, Percy could kiss. She didn’t think of it when she looked at him; she thought he’d kiss like a virgin, but then she never expected the ripples of muscles decorating his abdomen, either. He guided them towards his desk, the one he kept so meticulously organized and shoved his work to the side as he continued assaulting her mouth and groping her chest and bum. 

She was breathless by the sure onslaught of sensation coursing through her. He hiked up the hem of her skirt slightly, and with a single fluid movement, he lifted her to the edge of his desk. Everything was fast and frenzied and feral, nails and teeth and bruising grips. 

She was sure he was about to rip her knickers free and drive into her, but he paused his ministrations and looked at her, his eyes lit with blue flame. He didn’t tear his eyes from her as he rucked the fitted material of her skirt until it was up around her hips. Then he straightened his tie and sat primly in his chair, pulling it up until he was almost at eye level with her sex. 

A fevered blush spread like wildfire over her skin, and she could do nothing about the harsh, panting breaths that made her chest heave. Tearing his gaze from hers, he jerked his chin at her legs. 

“Spread your legs for me.” 

Pansy’s brows creased. “Wh-what?” 

“I’ve spent far too long dreaming what that pretty fanny looks like, Parkinson. Now I want to see it.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Please?”

Summoning all her non-existent courage, Pansy spread her thighs. 

_ “More.”  _

Pansy whimpered; her knickers were fucking ruined already, but she spread her knees wide, earning a low moan from the man staring at the apex of her thighs. 

“Beautiful.” His hands went to her knees, pushing them just a little further and then trailing his fingertips down the back of her calves. 

Never in her life had she felt more on display or more alive. He hitched her feet up, placing the sharp points of her stilettos on the armrests of his chair. Her hands fell back to brace herself as he gave an appreciative little noise.

“How long before you’re expected back at your desk, Pansy?” His eyes flickered up to hers as he ran a single digit along her covered slit. “Cause this might take me a while.” 

“Fuck,” she choked, her head falling back.

Before she could give a proper response, he placed a wet kiss over her soaked knickers, just where her clit was, his tongue pressing against the sensitive nub. She cried out, her fingers shooting to his wavy hair and twisting, pulling him closer. 

The pinch of his teeth against her inner thigh made her yelp, and he looked up sharply at her. “Keep your hands on the desk or I’ll charm them there.” 

Biting into her lip, she obliged, desperate for more of him. And Merlin, he took his time, laving at her knickers with a long flat tongue, pushing her towards an edge that she’d never topple over like this. 

“Percy,” she whined, squirming against his tongue. She could feel his smirk against her pussy, and finally, his fingers dug into her knickers, ripping them into shreds with a hard yank. He slipped two fingers inside her folds, curling and twisting until she writhed. 

His tongue flicked and massaged her clit, pushing her over the edge until her orgasm was coursing through every inch of her, her thighs closing around his head as she shamelessly rode his face and fingers. 

Finally, the thrumming in her system quieted, and she choked out a relieved breath. 

Before she’d even found enough energy to lift her head, she heard the sound of his zip and rustling of fabric. She expected to feel him prod her entrance but when it didn’t come, she shot up and found him sitting in his desk chair. 

“I want you to sit on my cock and make yourself come.” 

_ “What?” _

“I have a specific fantasy of seeing you bouncing on my lap, and I want to make it happen if you’re amenable.” 

Her eyes darted to his cock, thick and proud in his fist as he stroked himself slowly. She would never have thought Percy Weasley to be capable of speaking like he was, but it did sinful things to her nonetheless. 

Removing herself from the desk, she positioned herself over his lap and found the tip of his cock. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she slowly sank, taking his cock inch by delicious inch. She relished the feel of him stretching her, brushing that spot in her that made her jaw fall open. 

“That’s my good girl,” he bit out, long fingers slipping the first few buttons of her blouse free so he could palm at her breasts. “Fuck me, Pansy.” 

She whined, fingers flying up to the back of her chair as she began bucking her hips in a slow, purposeful rhythm. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” His fingers sank into her hips, but he did nothing to set the pace or rhythm, just bruised her pale skin with his hard grip and watched her. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you, dreamed of you coming undone on my cock again and again.” 

“Oh my gods…” she moaned, picking up her pace as he ripped at her collar and pulled the cups of her bra down. 

“Bounce on my cock, Parkinson. I want to see your tits—” 

She silenced him with a kiss, desperate to just feel his tongue again as she started to slam against his lap, rolling her hips with each thrust. He flexed his hips, pushing down on her hips so he was buried so deep inside her that she felt like he’d never be apart from her again. He touched that space inside her that made the walls of her sex flutter, and with a single hard jerk of her hips, she came again, moaning against his lips. 

“Perfect girl,” he said, rocking her through the last of her orgasm as she keened in a silent cry. 

Before she knew it, she was splayed over his desk, breasts out and skirt still up around her waist. His hand slid between the valley of her chest and curled gently around her throat, his finger tracing her pulse points before both hands gripped her waist, and he began driving into her. 

He fucked her like she’d never been in her entire life. Each rock of his hips brought a higher level of pleasure, and soon he stilled, spilling inside her as his face transformed in pleasure. When he’d finished, he fell over her, gently massaging her breast and kissing her jaw and cheeks, muttering sweet nothings of what a sweet and perfect girl she was, how much he’d wanted her, and most importantly, how he was never going to let her go. 

Finally, and yet still too soon, they dressed, and Pansy felt horrified in the wake of their tryst. Weasley seemed less affected. Clearing her throat, she plucked her Portkey form from the ground where it’d landed earlier and thanked him for his assistance. 

With a grimace, she turned and headed for the door. 

“Parkinson?” he barked, his fingers closing around her elbow and tugging her gently back. “You don’t leave until the morning?”

Sinking her teeth into her lip, she nodded and managed to look up at him for the first time since they’d parted. 

“Can I take you to dinner?” 

“Dinner?”

That crooked smile returned, and his hands wound around her waist. “Well, I meant what I said; I’ve no intention of letting you go. I already had to wait for that blasted Quidditch game to conclude. I’d rather not wait any longer if that’s alright.” 

Her lips twitched in a smile, and she nodded. “I could do dinner.” 

**A/N: MY FIRST PARKWEASEL!! I hated him, I tolerated him, now I love him lol I had so much fun in this fest and giant thanks to the admins at Hermione’s Nook for putting on this fest! They put on some of my favorites.**

**Biggest thank you to Frumpologist and Ravenslight for their Alphabet eyes and reassuring me it was okay! And of course, thank you to YOU for reading! You’re wonderful and I thank you so so so much!**

**Stay well.**

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
